


Final Fantasy XIV Writing Challenge - 2019

by Imagine_Nation



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Other, Slice of Life, otherwise it's pretty clean, there's only sexual stuff in Chapter 20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-10 20:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20534483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine_Nation/pseuds/Imagine_Nation
Summary: A series of oneshots written for the writing challenge headed by sea-wolf-coast-to-coast on Tumblr. Details will be updated as the challenge goes on.





	1. Honey and Ginger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1 - Voracious

“Should you really be using so much honey?”

The question is aired out with a tone of concern as Aymeric watches his fiancée pour a rather large amount of honey into her tea. From early on in their friendship Aymeric had come to know about Efa’s sweet tooth, which quite handily outdoes his own. The elezen enjoys some treats every now and then and his main indulgence is some birch syrup in his morning tea, but Efa is wont to be quite voracious when it comes to sweets. Aymeric’s concern is heightened by the trio of ginger cookies sitting in front of Efa, one of which she has already bitten into.

“As much as I can so that this tea doesn’t taste like slightly flavored water,” Efa mutters in reply to Aymeric’s question. She picks up the little stirring stick and stirs in the honey before bringing the cup up to her lips. Seemingly satisfied with the taste she closes the honey bottle and leans back against her chair with a happy little sigh.

Aymeric emits a more exasperated sigh of his own. “I am simply worried about your health. With the amount of sweets you eat I am surprised that your teeth have not begun falling out.” There is only a hint of scolding in his words; he knows that Efa eats the sweets out of stress, and he is loathe to deny her the luxury considering what she’s been through.

Efa rolls her eyes, but can’t hide the fond smile as she takes another sip of her honey-flavored tea. The room falls into a comfortable silence.

It is not long before Aymeric prepares to leave for his usual duties at the House of Lords. He stands with a grunt and stretches before he feels a tug on his sleeve. Efa is standing on her tip toes as she reaches up to pull Aymeric down for a kiss, which he consents to easily. He quietly revels in the warm taste of honey and ginger on Efa’s lips and is reminded of warm fires and cozy bedrooms; of loving hugs and sweet caresses; of home. He licks his lip as he pulls back, searing the taste into memory. “I shall see you this evening then?” He asks, not bothering to hide the hopeful looks in his eyes.

Efa giggles and nods. “Of course. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” _I’m not going anywhere_ is what he hears, and he smiles as he strides out the door with a pep in his step.

The taste of honey and ginger will get him through the day.


	2. Bragins Made with Blood and Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2 - Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one stars my character Akane Hanaba, a very... _troubled_ woman.

_Give them back_, her soul cries as flames crackle around her. She pays no mind to the encroaching heat, to the sweat dripping off her skin, for her mind is focused only on the pile of bleeding corpses in front of her. These corpses were people she knew; her father, her mother, her sisters, a cousin… and they were mercilessly slaughtered.

_Give them back_, she howls as she claws at the faces of Imperial soldiers, as she gouges out their eyes, as she stabs their hearts. They have their weapons pointed at her in shock and fear, _how could someone so small be so murderous_, they whisper. She quickly shows them how.

_Give them back_, she snarls as she hunts down every single Garlean she can find, stalking them from the shadows and striking when their guard is down. Her heart does not ease until she has killed every last one, but it still blazes with the need for justice, _for vengeance_.

_Give it back_, she demands as the boys around her carelessly toss her mother’s ring, the last good memory she has. They eventually end up running away in tears, crying from the pain of broken noses and fingers, and in fear from the anger and _hate_ they saw in her eyes.

_Give it back_, a man begs as he kneels before her. She is grown and beautiful now, no longer the scrawny, tiny child she was – _back when she lost everything_ – and men flock to her, begging for her attention, for her heart. They make for good tools and nothing more; they are ugly creatures, this she believes with all her heart, this she reminds herself of as she scoffs at the man. _Give what back_, she asks, _your senses_? She leaves him there, broken and weeping in the mud.

_Give it back_, a voice playfully whispers in the night. It is the kind of voice she has unknowingly come to look for, and she realizes that her body and her heart both prefer those with more curved shapes. _No_, she replies with bluntness, though there is no sharp edge in her own voice. The room is filled with sweet sighs and pretty moans that last well until dawn.

_Give it back_, a voice indignantly booms. The sounds around her are drowning out by the blood pumping in her ears, by the gleeful joy that fills her heart. This is where her vengeance shall truly begin. The ones she fought before were mere stepping stones; with this, she can _finally_ get her point across. She can let those in the Empire know that she is coming for them. _Come and take it_, she replies with a maddened grin, already feeling the spark of thunder forming in her palm.

_These are the bargains I offer you. I will give you no other choice._


	3. A Light Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #3 - Lost

She feels numb.

Her mind continuously replays his demise – _his voice, then the light, then the blood_ – and imagines scenarios where she’s faster, smarter, wiser, _anything_ to prevent the death of a good man who deserved better.

Her mind knows that there is little she could have done, but her heart cries out for justice, it cries _why did it have to be him, why not me, I would have survived, why why **why**_–

“–Efa?”

She startles at someone saying her name and she’s quickly brought back to reality. She feels wetness on her face and dazedly wipes it away; she feels an ache in her lungs and she gasps for air; the light of the room – _the one in Fortemps Manor, where he once stood_ – blinds her for a few seconds before they readjust. She looks around and sees worried faces staring at her. She glances at the one who just spoke and feels a sense of calm wash over her. _Tataru_, sweet little Tataru is standing before Efa, looking as though she’s about to cry herself. Efa feels a pang of guilt – she’s crying because of me – and directs her gaze to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Tataru asks. Efa can’t help but snort in response. _No, I’m not alright, I feel like my heart’s been turn out of my chest and then stepped on, but otherwise I’m fine, how are you?_ Efa knows that, logically, she has no reason to feel this way, that such a response isn’t right, but she really doesn’t care right now.

Because the world just lost one of it’s warmest and brightest lights, and she doesn’t know how to bring it back.


	4. The Fault Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #4 - Shifting Blame

_"You only have yourself to blame.”_

The words resound in Emmanellain’s mind like an angry thunderstorm. He distinctly remembers the barely-restrained anger in Hyland’s voice and the fury that burned in her eyes. He shudders at the memory, though his fear is quickly replaced by bitterness. _What right does she have_, he thinks, _she doesn’t know of failure!_

_But she does_. Another voice – the one of reason – pipes up. _She knows of it all too well; she mourns over it even now._

Oh yes. Haurchefant. He remembers the way Hyland acted when she returned from the Vault, practically radiating regret and guilt; no amount of reassurances could soothe her woes. He does not blame her for his brother’s death – nay, that is the fault of the Heaven’s Ward, of that he is certain.

Blame… Who is to blame for the failure of the conference? Not him, certainly! He didn’t have any other options! It’s not like he could have politely asked the protesters to leave!

And yet, in spite of his verbal and silent protestations, he couldn’t stop the growing, gnawing feeling in his chest.

_…This is my fault, isn’t it?_


	5. Spared from an Unfair Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #4 - Vault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moen Moen had to have known what he was doing when he chose this prompt. I went with a fix-it fic because my heart still hurts from Haurchefant's death, but I wouldn't be surprised if people went with straight-up angst.

"We were not too late, my friend!”

Haurchefant’s joyful statement lifts Efa’s spirits somewhat, though she is breathless from having to unceasingly chase the Heaven’s Ward throughout the Vault. Though they might not be _too_ late, they’re late _enough_ to see the Archbishop at the far end of the bridge preparing to board the little airship. Having been bent over trying to catch her breath, Efa now stands straight up and rolls her shoulders. She turns upon hearing footsteps and gasps at seeing a limping Aymeric. _Oh, you poor man, how dare those people hurt you…_

As Aymeric stumbles forward Efa reaches out to steady him and summons her white magic to heal him as much as she can, even if it’s simply to rid him of his pains. “Why must you do this, Father!?“ He calls, trying to keep himself upright, “Nidhogg is fallen! There is no need for further deception! Now is the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path - to start anew!”

Efa senses the Archbishop’s scoffing more than she sees or hears it, and his next words make her bristle; “And tear down the very pillars of our society - our history, our values - everything we have built over a thousand years? …A fool to the last.”

“He is _not_ a fool,” Efa mutters under breath as she finishes with her healing. Aymeric smiles gratefully and stands a little straighter just as the airship’s engines roar. Haurchefant gives Efa an excited look, clearly wanting to give chase, but as Efa looks out she’s struck by a realization.

“…Let him go.”

Everyone looks at her with varying levels of surprise. Haurchefant opens his mouth to protest and promptly closes it when Efa raises a hand, a signal to let her speak. “We’ve rescued Aymeric and that’s enough. We can focus on getting the Archbastard after things have settled down.” Aymeric nods in agreement. “Aye, you have the right of it.”

And with that, they depart. Efa knows that she has more to say in order to explain herself when they get back the Congregation, but for now she’s satisfied with what they’ve accomplished today.

She’s somewhat started by Haurchefant suddenly striding up to her. He flashes that gloriously brilliant smile of and Efa feels her face flush, her mouth forming into an unbidden smile of her own. He speaks and she listens intently, his cheerful chatter being oddly soothing. She knows she’s made the right choice.


	6. Recovery Is a Hard Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6 - First Steps

Throngs of Ishgardians are joyously celebrating the end of the Dragonsong War. They drink, they make merry, they bond. It’s truly a sight to behold.

But for Efa Hyland, such revelry is something that she would much rather avoid this day.

She does not fault them for openly displaying their palpable relief and rejoicing; on the contrary, she feels like a great burden has been lifted of her shoulders herself, like she can finally _breathe_ after spending so long doing nothing but fight for her life.

Yet, in spite of her accomplishments, Efa is in no mood to celebrate. Her heart still aches from the shock of Haurchefant’s death, and it is only now that she has an opportunity to properly grieve. Yet she has no room to do in Ishgard

And so she goes to Camp Dragonhead. To the place where she first met the man she would come to call her closest friend – and maybe more had he lived longer.

She approaches the guard that stands at the doorway to the Falling Snows. Only an exchange of nods and a brief explanation are needed for her to be allowed entry, and she walks in quickly so that the cold does not seep into the room.

Silence reigns once she closes the door. It is not stifling or even uncomfortable; rather, it is sobering. The only sound that can be heard is Efa’s heavy footsteps walking towards the chair that sits behind the long table. She brushes her fingers against the wood as she makes her way to take a seat.

It’s not long before she feels the tears forming in her eyes. She distinctly remembers the way Haurchefant had walked in with three mugs of steaming hot cocoa as Alphinaud berated himself for his arrogance. Efa remembers the way Haurchefant lifted everyone’s spirits with only his smile and a few kind words.

The world will never look upon his like again.

Before she knows it Efa is weeping. All of her suppressed anger, grief, and anxieties spill out by way of wracking sobs and tears. She cries into her arms, paying no mind to her breathlessness or her hot face. Eventually, exhaustion claims her and her eyelid slowly droop against her will.

She swears she can feel the breath of a kiss on her hair…


	7. Maybe Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7 - Forgiven

“Would y’ forgive ‘em?”

Enkhtuya stops stringing her bow to look up at the young hyur who just spoke. A boy of thirteen summers with a black eye and a bruised cheek, but also with determined eyes and a straight back. She knows who he speaks of without needing him to specify, and she looks back down at her bow, pondering.

Would she forgive the Dotharl for almost annihilating her whole tribe? If she had the choice, yes. _Could_ she forgive them?

“…Yes. Someday.”

The boy is obviously confused by her answer. “So yer sayin’ that you’d forgive ‘em? Even when they hurt yer family?” _Shouldn’t you be wanting revenge?_ That is the unspoken question that Enkhtuya nonetheless hears.

“I would not forgive them out of a desire to ‘make amends’.” Enkhtuya’s voice is firm and the boy eases. “I would forgive them for mine own sake. ‘Twould do me little good to hold onto my past rage; nay, I would look towards mine happy tomorrows instead.”

The archer looks the boy in the eyes; he is kept silent by the quiet conviction he sees in hers. “You are a loyal child, but you are also a proud one. Pray, think of your family and their love for you the next time you have such thoughts.”

The boy remains silent. He brushes his fingers over his bruising cheek. “…Ye make it look so easy. Forgivin’, I mean.”

Enkhtuya hums. “Twasn’t easy at all. But I learned. You will too, someday."


	8. Like a Moth to a Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #9 - Hesitate
> 
> #8 was a make-up day that I skipped over. This chapter is a sequel to "Spared from an Unfair Fate".

The wait is agonizing.

Haurchefant sits alone in his office, twiddling his thumbs and shaking his leg out of sheer anxiety. He had sent out his men earlier, telling them that he would have a private meeting with a certain someone. Though few questioned his reasoning, he suspects that Yaelle and Corentiaux at least know of who he means.

Haurchefant can barely hear the howling winds outside over the loud thumping of his own heartbeat. His mind drifts over to the woman who has so soundly captured his heart, and he can’t help himself from smiling. She is a warm light that he cannot help but gravitate towards in the midst of the cold frost he is surrounded by. It was her kind heart and sharp mind that drew him in, and though some may claim he is simply admiring the healer -- or even that his attentions are towards the Warrior of Light instead -- he knows that is not the case. He fell in love with Efa, the sweet but fiery hyur he met when Francel was being accused as a heretic. 

The Silver Fuller nearly jumps out of his seat when he hears the door creak open. Seeing Efa’s curious, eager expression light up upon meeting his eyes makes his heart do a little somersault. “There you are!” He hears himself say, and oh, she smiles at him! “Full glad am I that you’ve arrived! I feared that the harsh winds might dissuade you from coming…”

“Don’t be silly!” She replies cheerfully, pulling off her hood and letting her long hair fall free. “I wouldn’t dream of saying no to your summons, Arch.” She looks around, expression bearing confusion. “Er, but I do wonder what’s so important that you wanted this to be private…”

Haurchefant stands to his full height strides over to her with faux confidence, his cheeky smile never faltering. “You see, I have something of great import to confess to you.”

“Confess?” She looks amused now as she sits on his desk. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all! It is simply that recent events have made me consider some things, and you are at the center of it all.”

Efa smiles again, looking very eager to get on with it. “Then tell me!”

Haurchefant takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “I believe I have already made it clear how much I admire you. You are a woman of great compassion and courage, one I am more than honored to call my friend.” He can’t help but notice Efa’s growing smile and the faint shade of pink on her cheeks. “Yet it wasn’t until your actions in the Vault that I realized you had become more than a friend.”

Efa’s reaction is instantaneous, her expression morphing from bashfulness to surprise – and was that a spark of hope he saw in her eyes? “What a sight you were! Beating down the Heaven’s Ward with nary but gusts of wind and rocks! But it was the fire in your eyes that stole my breath away. All were certain that you would stop at nothing to save Ser Aymeric, and for a brief moment I feared you would do something reckless.”

Efa looks down at the floor, expression pinched. “Ser Aymeric is a good man. I wasn’t about to let him die because of religious zealots, least of all his own father.” She spits out the last word with a startling amount of vitriol, though Haurchefant understands why. “That is why your first priority was to heal him, yes? You did not wish to chase after the Archbishop without being certain Ser Aymeric was safe and sound.” An affirmative nod is all Haurchefant needs to continue.

“And that is why I will say what I’m about to say: I love you, Efa Hyland.”

Haurchefant hadn’t even realized he’d moved to stand right in front of Efa, but that doesn’t matter when she’s looking at him like she’s found the key to life’s secret. A beat of silence passes before she abruptly stands up on his desk, leans down and holds his face in her mitten-covered hands. Her lips meet his without any hesitation, and Haurchefant can’t stop himself from moaning.

_She tastes like home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/11/2019 Edit: After some consideration I've decided to re-do some bits of writing in this as I'm rethinking some things about Efa's character. This was originally written with Efa as the WoL, but I think I should save that for an AU or some such.


	9. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #10 - Foster

It is a bright, sunny day in Limsa Lominsa. A cool breeze drifts through the bustling city, and the atmosphere is one of cheer and friendliness.

And in a certain apartment of the Mizzenmast Inn, the cheer is even greater.

“Miss Efa! Miss Efa! What’s this?” The pitter-patter of small feet and a child’s voice grab Efa’s attention and she looks up from the box she’s rummaging through to see the newest member of her family bouncing in. He is holding a sketchbook in his hands and Efa internally grimaces. “Ah, that’s one of my old art books. Used ‘em all the time as a child; you’re welcome to look if you want.”

The boy excitedly hops onto Efa’s newly-made bed and promptly begins sifting through the pages. The drawings and paintings within are suitably childish, but also colorful and imaginative, with flowers and houses being a common thing. One thing the boy notices is that there are more than a few pieces that portray Efa and her mother holding hands.

Efa notices the lack of shifting paper and turns to look at him. “P’kin? What’s wrong?”

The boy does not reply for a few moments. “…You love your mum a lot, don’tcha? I loved my mum, too.”

Efa immediately understands. “…Aye, I know, little one.” Efa moves to sit beside him on the bed. “And I know she loved you just as much.” P’kin’s tail twitches, and his ears sag the more he thinks about his mother and her untimely passing. “…Do you think she’d be happy here?”

Efa nods. “I do. She would’ve been very happy to help Mum at the Wench, and to see you grow into a man. But let’s not dwell on the ‘what ifs’, mm? It wouldn’t do to get all sad when we’re just starting to move into our new home! And P’mano wouldn’t want you to get sad either!”

It takes a bit for P’kin’s spirits to uplift, but soon enough he’s running around causing little bits of mischief, giggling all the while.

This would be a good place to start fostering a new little brother.


	10. Uh, Whoops?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #11 - Snuff

“So.”

“So.”

“Care to share how this happened?”

The two speakers look upon the giggling miqo’te boy of six summers, rolling around in what appeared to be a greenish powder. Little P’kin is utterly covered in the stuff, and Efa has to shield her nose from the rich smell of lavender and _something else_. The miqo’te standing next to her looks properly sheepish, tail lashing to and fro whilst scratching his ear. “I don’t know! I just left it on the table, looked away for a few seconds and there he was, coating himself in the stuff!”

Efa looks at P’kin in all his snuffy glory before a thought comes to her. “…Bora’to why do you even _have_ snuff?” Bora’to shrugs. “Some hyur came running by, tossed the packets at me, and ran off.”

“Hm.”

They both look down at P’kin again who, having exhausted himself from so much rolling, giggling and sniffing, is on the brink of sleep. Both adults gain fond smiles and Bora’to heaves the boy up into his arms. “Bedtime for you, little man…”

Efa watches them go before glancing down at the mess on the floor. _Where did Mum put the broom again…?_


	11. Flowers in Her Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12 - Fingers Crossed

“You’re overthinking this.”

Aymeric ceases his pacing to blankly stare at his second. He is met with an exasperated frown from Lucia as she walks towards him. “It shouldn’t be this hard to simply _ask_ the woman.”

Aymeric huffs. “I know, but I just–”

“’Want it to be perfect,’ I know. But you needn’t work yourself into a frenzy over this. Need I remind you of when you first asked her to dinner? I was fairly certain that you would drag her to the house yourself had you fretted any longer.”

Aymeric rolls his eyes as Lucia continues speaking. “The only advice I can give is to be yourself. Efa strikes me as one who dislikes standing on ceremony and appreciates honesty.”

Aymeric glances down for a moment, thinking. He then nods. “Right you are, as usual.”

Lucia nods with satisfaction. “I must return to my duties. I bid you good luck, Lord Commander.” With a salute and a nod in return, Lucia strides out of the office. Aymeric slowly sits down and ponders the little box that’s been sitting on his desk all this time. He had made’ an impulse buy and gotten Efa a hairpin, made in the likeness of blue hydrangeas. Blue suits her well, he thinks.

He’s been hesitant to make any moves since she’s still grieving over the death of Haurchefant, but when he had asked her to another dinner her reaction had been positive, and he distinctly recalls a faint blush on her cheeks.

He remembers watching Nidhogg’s shade fly off, and feeling Efa gently grab hold of his arm as she joined him. “_It’ll be alright_,” she’d whispered with a smile, though her eyes conveyed her worry.

He remembers her overwhelming grief at Haurchefant’s death and the way she had wept over his body. His heart aches at the memory, at her sobs and her tears…

Mind made up, Aymeric stands with box in hand. Whether she accepts or rejects his offer of courtship, he’ll make in known he’ll stand by her no matter what.

He unconsciously crosses his fingers in the hope that she’ll say yes.


	12. Love and Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13 - Wax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in a world where Efa isn't the WoL. Also there's some nudity in this chapter but nothing sexual.

Efa has never been one to think to much on the mysteries and intricacies of life unless the situation called for it – or if she’s especially bored. To her, life is about dealing with problems as they come and to appreciate the simple things, like sunsets or butterflies on flowers. But recent events have made her question her philosophy, on whether or not she’s been lazy or simply naive to be so accepting of how things are.

She ponders the little red candle she’s holding, twisting and turning it in her fingers. She holds a matchbox in her other hand that she is unconsciously fiddling with, and it’s not until she hears it plop against the floor that she realizes she’s dropped. She quickly picks it up and restarts on what she’s supposed to be doing, which is lighting the candle before bed. With a few swift movements she completes her task and puts the matchbox in the side table drawer.

She watches the candle slowly melt under the heat of the small, flickering flame. The melted wax drips down the side and hardens as it goes. She knows that once the fire’s out it’ll leave behind a mess. Maybe that’s a metaphor for life, to burn bright and not think of the consequences your light creates before you die out.

Efa is startled out of her musings when she feels a warmth – one much more soothing than that of the candle – envelop her in an embrace. She feels the familiar sensation of being nuzzled and she huffs a laugh, almost a giggle. “Enjoyed your bath?” She asks as she looks at the face of the one and only Haurchefant Fortemps, naked as the day he was born.

She gets a content hum in the affirmative. “Indeed. It was most refreshing the bathe properly after so long. ‘Tis only a shame you couldn’t join me!” Efa snorts. “I would have if you hadn’t been so _handsy_, love.” She only gets a plaintive whine in response. “I only wished to relieve you of the stress that’s been plaguing you, dearest! And you’re normally so receptive~”

Efa rolls her eyes. “I’ll make up for it by cuddling you tonight, alright?”

Haurchefant positively _beams_ at that and quickly pulls his lover down to his chest before pulling the covers over them both. They both cling to each other’s warmth as sleep quickly makes it’s claim over them. Haurchefant runs his fingers through Efa’s hair as he wonders what had made her so sad when she was looking at the candle, though he swiftly decides it can wait. For now, he’ll simply hold her close.

The candle, meanwhile, burns on.


	13. Eyes Are Windows, Though Not Always Clear Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #14 - Scour

“Why do you still hide?”

Botan startles at Lucia’s voice and snaps her head up to meet the taller woman’s eyes. Her neck strains at the effort even when standing due to the sheer difference in height between them. It takes Botan a moment to process Lucia’s question and she looks down at her feet as she ponders over her answer. She knows what the second-in-command actually means: Why do you still hide what you are?

“…Safer,” Botan mumbles, still looking down at her boots. There is silence for a few moments.

“…I can understand your hesitation.“ Lucia finally says, and Botan believes her. “I was also afraid to confess my true identity to the Lord Commander for fear of retribution. But unlike you I did not have the claim of saving the entirety of Ishgard from the undying wrath of a dragon. Do you not think your actions have proven your trustworthiness?” Lucia’s tone is not accusatory, simply questioning. “You have gone above and beyond to help a land that has hunted dragons and anything like them for centuries, which – from what you’ve told me – includes your own kind.”

Botan shivers. She remembers hearing horror stories of au ra being hunted out of ignorance and fear. That is, she supposes, the thing she’s most glad to be rid of – now her kind can travel without fear for their lives amdist the cold winds of Ishgard. And yet…

“…Prejudice. Ignorance. Hard to drop.”

Lucia hums. “True. But effort must be made from both sides for us to rid ourselves of such things.” Her tone and gaze are pointed and Botan almost bristles before calming herself at the realization that Lucia is, in fact, right. Botan suddenly becomes all too aware of the hood that covers her face and horns.

“…I will try.”

Lucia smiles. “That is all anyone asks of you, Botan.”


	14. Surviving Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #16 - Jitter

“It’s time, girl.”

Botan stares at the guard with apprehension. Her fists – pale and small and covered with scars – have a vice grip on her hora, hard enough to add blisters to her palms to match the ones on her knuckles. Her body is taut, tense, ready to jump at whoever would dare take her by surprise.

She looks down at the puddle of rainwater by her feet. Her reflection is barely recognizable of who she was before she was brought to Ul’dah, to these pits of blood, sweat and death. She quickly learned how to hide her terror, her despair and desperation in the name of survival.

“Get up, girl! Don’t make you grab you by your tail!” The guard is impatient and unkind, eager to exercise his “authority” whenever he feels like it – it is the only way he feels he has any control anymore. Botan understands this, but is still disappointed. Where she even a few months younger, she would be angry.

She gathers her remaining courage and stands up, spine straight and shoulders taut. Without a word she strides out the gate, not bothering giving the guard a glance as she walks out into the open arena, into the cacophony of shouts and screams of people seeking blood sport. She pulls down her hood – the one privilege she was able to gain in this place, to hide herself – and adjusts her hora.

As she waits – calmly, willing and ready – she thinks back to what her father told her when she was small. _“Be not afraid to be fearful, but be wary of whom you show such fear to.”_

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for–”

She hears the gate on the other side of the arena lift, and she gives herself a good shake to rid herself of any remaining jitters and hesitations.

Now was the time for battle.


	15. Lawful, but Not Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #17 - Obeisant

Efa had respect for the Elder Seedseer, once.

She still has respect for her – still calls her “Miss Senna”, still generally trusts her judgement – for Kan-E-Senna is a wise woman, much wiser than most people who live in the Twelveswood. Her word is taken as law by Gridanians and she is loved by all.

…Well, she’s loved by _most_ people.

There are those who are angry with the Elder Seedseer for bending to the will of the elementals – the cold, cruel, _alien_ elementals – for more than a few have died because the elementals willed it so. Young, old, the elementals care none, they simply pick and chose who will die and who won’t because they want to.

Efa thinks Kan-E-Senna knows this. And yet, in the name of keeping the peace and being allowed to stay within the Twelveswood, the Seedseer does nothing.

Efa remembers the day when her eyes were opened to the padjal’s subservience, when a little boy – barely four summers old and with a sister on the way – fell deathly ill. His mother’s pleadings fell on deaf ears, and all she received were words of hollow pity.

For little Efa, at the tender age of nine, this would not stand.

Into the Twelveswood she traveled, healing flower in hand. She knew her healing magic was powerful, more powerful than most children her age. She knew she could heal the boy. And she did, and she warned the family to leave before the elementals cursed them with their wrath.

When she saw Kan-E-Senna next, it was to scold and punish her, to defying the elementals. Efa gave no apologies, only a question of when the Seedseer would stop being a pushover.

Efa got a smack on the cheek for her attitude.

A distance has stayed between them since that was somewhat mended by Kan-E-Senna’s trip to Moghome and her willingness to bridge the gap between the different moogle trips. And still, Efa will offer a small smile and a respectful “Hello Miss Senna”.

Though Efa respects Miss Senna, she will follow her no longer.


	16. This Flower Refuses to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #18 - Whither

_Botan_. The Doman word for the peony. Though peonies have gained the admiration of roses and lilies, they still have a loveliness of their own – some have even called them cute, for their round shape and fluffy petals.

For me, they mean something different.

I remember when I was small, my mother would tell me of _hanakotoba_, the Doman flower language. Azaleas are patient and modest; cherry blossoms are kind and gentle; daffodils are respectful, and the list goes on. Flowers usually have meanings that match their beauty, fleeting though they are.

Some flowers, however, have negative meanings. Freesias are immature; hydrangeas are prideful; orange lilies are hateful; primroses are desperate.

Peonies are brave.

I once asked my mother why I was named after peonies, why I was named Botan. Why not Sakura, or Tsutsuji, or Suisen. She told me that most little girls already have those names, for they are told to be kind, to be gentle, to be respectful. My mother wanted me to be brave.

And I try to. In the face of all my troubles – my capture, my life in the gladiator pits, and my losses – and try to be brave. To not cower and fall into despair.

But… it’s hard. There are so many who wish to kill me for my power, so many who wish to kill my allies for helping me, so many who wish to destroy me from the inside out.

And yet… it is not even bravery that drives me. It is the need to survive, to simply _live_.

I will not wilt and die before I see my homeland one more time. _I cannot_.


	17. Healing Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19 - Radiant

Haurchefant is radiant.

He is radiant in different ways. His warmth and kindness draw people in when they are in need of succor and friendship, of sanctuary. When he smiles he is nearly blinding, his joy becoming its own kind of sun amidst the dreary chill of Coerthas.

There is a reason why Haurchefant has so many followers and admirers; he is a beacon, a fire that burns in spite of the worst blizzards and coldest hearts. And his own heart – safe and warm and _home_ – makes even the most despondent feel like there’s still hope for themselves, for _everyone_.

And while he is more than happy to share his light with the world, let the lost find a home to gain comfort, he would rather save it all for _you_.

For to him, you are the one who is most radiant, you are the one who stands as a glimmering shield against the forces of darkness and evil, and through it all you never lose sight of who you are.

But he knows you tire of the endless fighting, the endless requests, the _loneliness_ that comes from being so powerful and so admired. He knows that you come to him for relief, for peace, for _quiet_. He knows that he is one of the few people who treats you as a loved one rather than as hero. He knows that is what you need, more than anything else.

You give each other succor, you give each other love, you give each other a _home_.

And neither of you would trade it for anything in the world.


	18. Brownies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #20 - Bisect

The sounds of clanking dishes, cheerful humming and a crackling fire resonates throughout Camp Dragonhead’s kitchen. If one were to walk in now they would be hit with the smell of brownies, warm and fresh and steaming, and the sight of a hyur woman looking upon her work with satisfaction.

Efa has been in the kitchen for bells, the clock on the wall showing that it’s well past midnight. Yet Efa doesn’t feel the least bit tired, but rather elated at having done such a fine job with her brownies. She’s eager to share them with Haurchefant once he wakes up – right now everyone is asleep, frolicking in dreamland to prepare for a new day after the sun rises.

Efa puts on gloves before pulling the hot pan out of the oven. Oh, the smell is heavenly and Efa can’t help but allow a gleeful cackle.

About an hour later – after cleaning up the kitchen and having a snack – the brownies are ready to be cut, and Efa wastes no time in doing so. The knife cuts neatly and smoothly through the pastry, and in a matter of seconds she has a pan of twelve brownies.

She proceeds to wrap the brownies in a warm towel before turning off the kitchen lights and stepping out into the chilly air. Thankfully there’s no blizzard tonight, so Efa makes the trek back to her shared room with Haurchefant without incident.

She hopes he likes her brownies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this fluffy out of a desire to _not_ make it into angst and gore.


	19. A Quick Trek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #21 - Crunch

_Crunch, crunch, crunch_

Efa isn’t sure for how long she’s been walking in the snow. A blizzard has been blowing for the past two days and the soldiers at Camp Dragonhead have been understandably fearful of going out into the storm for fear of getting lost. But the camp needs wool, so Efa – with thaumaturge stick in hand and a promise of her own safety – trekked out to get the wool for them.

She’s already regretting it.

In an effort to keep her mind off of her current situation, she first tries to focus on the snow crunching beneath her feet. _Crunch, crunch, crunch_ is what she hears as the snow is squished under her footsteps. It works for about a second before she gets bored and her mind drifts off to other things. Like the warm fire waiting for her at the camp, or cuddling with Haurchefant.

Haurchefant…

He is undoubtedly worried for her by now, probably setting up a search party as she’s walking up the camp’s gates. She feels a sense of relief wash over her at seeing the light of the fires. A guardsman rushes over and takes the wool before directing her to the intercessory, where Haurchefant is waiting.

Efa thanks the guardsman and quickly makes her way to the Falling Snows. She wonders of Haurchefant has any cocoa or cookies waiting for her.

The crunching of cookies is preferable to the crunching of snow.


	20. Fun at the Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #23 - Parched

“A-Arch, please–!”

Efa doesn’t remember how they got to this point. Or rather, she does, she just can’t be bothered to remember right this very second, not with a very eager Haurchefant lying between her legs and slurping up her essence like his life depends on it.

Being on the public and very open beaches of Costa del Sol, there is little room for privacy unless you want to hide amongst the trees by the main road, and what shade you can find will largely be under the wooden platforms. Thankfully Efa had found a secluded, shady spot when she and Haurchefant had arrived, rather out of the way of other beach goers.

After a long day of playing in the sea and in the sand, Efa had suggested eating the snacks they had brought with them. One thing led to another and Efa soon found herself sitting on Haurchefant’s face, trying very hard not to make any noises – she knows all too well how loud she can get when doing sexual acts.

Haurchefant, meanwhile, has no such compunctions and happily moans and sighs as he drinks and takes in the scent of his lover. Efa squeaks whenever he squeezes her ass cheeks. “Arch, please, you’re – _hah_ – m-making this difficult–!”

Oh, she can _feel_ him smiling, feeling oh so proud of himself for bringing her to this point, wearing nothing but her bikini top. Haurchefant had discarded her bottoms when he started his meal, and Efa had thrown off her jacket when the heat became too much. She’s tempted to throw off her top before the elezen does

Haurchefant noses Efa’s clit and she lets out a long groan, squeezing his head between her thighs while grabbing at his hair. _Oh, to hells with propriety!_

Feeling lust and need take over, Efa starts jerking her hips back and forth as Haurchefant continues his ministrations, earning a needy whine from him. His hands go to her thighs for purchase as Efa rides out her orgasm. “Arch, Arch, oh my gods, _Arch_–!” Efa cums quickly, squirting all over Haurchefant’s face while he makes certain to drink every last drop.

Efa takes a few moments to come down from her high before looking down at Haurchefant’s blissed out and adoring expressions. She gulps when he licks his lips.

“Round two, dearest?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I firmly believe that Haurchefant is into oral sex and you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands.


	21. No Headache is Worth a Fancy Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24 - Unctuous

_Gods, how many more of these sycophants do I have to deal with?_

Efa impatiently taps her fingers on the arm of her chair, looking at anywhere but the two idiots in front of her. She only came to this party – this gathering of spoiled nobles and shady politicians – because Aymeric had asked her to. The thing is, Aymeric isn’t here yet – apparently he was dealing with his own set of groveling fools a few halls down, and no matter how much Efa wants to go find him she knows that she’ll likely drag these two with her.

She can’t be bothered to remember their names, she really can’t. They’re both to close for comfort and they’re doing nothing but dumping praises and accolades on her, hailing the Warrior of Light and all she’s done, but oh, would she be so kind as to tell them how Ser Aymeric is doing? Is there anything troubling him? Does he like gifts? Gods, their blatant need to use the man is disgusting.

Efa perks when Aymeric’s arrival is _finally_ announced. The wave of sheer relief that washes through her veins is palpable, and she wastes no time in surging upwards and stomping towards the blue-clad elezen. She wraps him in a tight hug before he can even say anything, grumbling that if she has to deal with any more of these people alone she’ll set the room on fire.

She only gets a light, amused chuckle in response as Aymeric returns the hug. There is a silent promise made to stick close throughout the remaining evening, and they set to work on surviving the remaining flatterers before they retire.

_It’ll be easier with him around._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Efa loathes fancy parties because being around people for an extended amount of time is _exhausting_. She also just hates dressing up.


	22. A Revelation of No Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #25 - Trust

“Do you still trust me?”

Efa looks up from her book to see two familiar eyes – big and bright and blue – staring at her with an expression of worry and insecurity. The book she holds is one about demons and their relations with humans, one that she’s picked up out of pure curiosity and nothing more. Haurchefant, however, seems to have more concerning thoughts about her choice of reading.

Efa is, admittedly, a little puzzled by the question. “Of course I do. You’re still Arch, aren’t you? This…” She waves her hand in his general direction. “This doesn’t really change anything.”

The elezen looks surprised for a moment before his face melds into one of relief. “Oh, good! I was afraid you would react poorly to my change, but I am overjoyed that it is not so!” He floats over to the smaller woman and peppers kisses all over her face, inciting giggles from the both of them.

“Ah, well, there is one thing…” Efa mumbles and Haurchefant stops his assault. “Oh? And what would it be?”

“…Is there any chance you could have normal hands again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame Discord shenanigans for this one. There was talk of incubus!Haurchefant and I was like 👀


	23. Bathtime Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #26 - Slosh

“Would you stop that?”

Though Efa means for the question to be admonishing, her tone is anything but, instead revealing her amusement and affection as Haurchefant splashes about, tossing water and suds out of the bathtub. “Nay, ‘tis been a long while since I’ve had such a lovely bath, and I’ll not waste a single moment!” He splashes some more, paying no heed to the fact that Efa is nearly soaked.

Efa would normally be more stern about not making a mess, but considering Haurchefant’s near-death at the Vault she’s willing to be more lenient right now. And, in all honesty, she finds Haurchefant’s childlike playfulness adorable.

“Yes, well, the point of a bath is to get clean, not to make a meEHSS!” All at once Efa is pulled into the tub, falling headfirst in the soapy water before she quickly scrambles her way out, spluttering and attempting to whipe the soap off her face. She rushes to the sink as Haurchefant cackles gleefully. “Not funny!”

With a sigh into the mirror, Efa begins undressing herself, smiling in satisfaction as Haurchefant’s laughter cuts off abruptly. Once her wet clothes are all off she climbs into the tub, giggling at Haurchefant’s dumbstruck expression. “What? You’re telling you _didn’t_ want me to bathe with you?”

Efa lets out a cackle of her own when the elezen’s face becomes rolanberry red.


	24. Some People Don’t Know When to Stop Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #27 - Palaver

Botan is no stranger to talkative nobles. The aristocrats in Doma – the wealthy, the warriors, the government officers – they did nothing _but_ talk. They would talk and talk and talk until their voices were hoarse and whatever conversation they had was switched to something else. It’s much the same in Ul’dah.

Sure, the topics are sometimes different. Instead of talking about honor and battle, people here talk about money. In Ul’dah, it is the money in your pocket that decides your worth. If you have no money, then you are worthless and no-one will pay you any mind.

Botan knows that, to most of the Syndicate, she is worthless. She has no money of her own and no desire to gain any, she has no foothold in politics and barely speaks the common tongue. As far as they are concerned, she is simply a pitiable orphan General Raubhan took under his wing.

And so they do not speak to her. They do not bother her with pretty words and overly complicated metaphors. At least, they don’t bother most of the time.

There is one lalafell – Tela-something – that tends to start one-sided conversations with her at random. He looks friendlier than the others, but Botan knows better than to take him at face value. He talks just as much as the rest of them; the only difference is that he smiles more.

Botan knows a mask when she sees it.

She wonders if these people will ever shut up.


	25. Home Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #28 - Attune

It takes a lot of inner strength for Efa to walk into Camp Dragonhead now. She hasn’t visited for months – the circumstances of Haurchefant and her own guilt made her fearful of how the camp’s people would react. She had been so sure at least some of them would be angry, outraged, something…

But they hadn’t been. They’d been more concerned for her than anything.

She had wept for hours.

But now is not the time to drown in sad memories. Efa came here with an objective in mind and she has every intention of fulfilling it.

It takes a bit to will herself further into the camp. It’s a quiet, blessedly clear night. Judging by the near-total lack of light within the premises, nearly all the soldiers have gone to sleep save for the night watch. Efa doesn’t think they notice her walking through the archway. To be honest, she _hopes_ they don’t. She means for this to be a private moment.

Camp Dragonhead’s aetheryte isn’t any different from others that Efa has seen, at least not physically. But it has a great deal of sentimental value; it’s placed where Efa first met the one who she would consider most dear to her.

The stone’s blue glow contrasts with the moon’s white light that shines down upon the silver snow, making it glitter and twinkle. The scenery is very picturesque, and the aetheryte sticks out like a sore thumb with it’s unnatural aura, but the nature viewing can wait for the moment.

Like she’s done so many times before, Efa holds out her hand and allows the aetheryte’s magic to reach out and touch her own aether and down to her very soul. She smiles with satisfaction when the connection is completed, and promptly turns to admire the star-dotted skies.

_Please watch over me, Arch._


	26. In My Dreams...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #30 - Darkness

Sleep has become an escape for Efa. In her dreams she is safe, she is happy, she is _whole_, and the world is as it should be. In her dreams no-one dies – at least, the ones who matter.

She sits now in her bed – the one in Limsa Lominsa, not the one in Ishgard. She needs time to escape, to get away from… _everything_. To get away from the fighting, the rushing around, the constant cries for help… More than anything, Efa needs _quiet_.

The sounds of bustling citizens are muffled through the walls of the Drowning Wench, though Efa is thankful for the familiar ambience. She looks out the window and watches the sun slowly descend into the horizon, her thoughts a chaotic haze as she thinks back to everything that’s happened. All the fights she’s won and lost, the people she’s defeated and been defeated by, and the loved ones that she’ll never see again.

She stops herself from crying before she can even begin and wipes away the stray tear that managed to escape. Of course _he_ would immediately come to mind when she thinks of lost loved ones. It is his death that she will always remember and his heart that she’ll keep close.

She sighs. “…I need some sleep…”

She knows that she won’t actually get to sleep yet, not when she’s not tired and not when her mind is so abuzz with activity. So she instead turns to her journal, where she’ll reminisce on the good memories until tiredness overtakes her. 

And when it does, she’ll dream of a life where everything is as it should be.


End file.
